Fire and Ice (The Americana Series Book 5) Read online

Then there was a moment of stillness. His mouth was moving in speech. Whatever it was that was said Alisa didn't know, but the girl's arms suddenly entwined around his neck as she pulled his head down to hers. Her stomach churned with sickening nausea, yet she was unable to look away from the obviously growing passion of their embrace. At last she shut her eyes, no longer able to stand the abandonment with which the girl gave herself to Zachary.

  She hated and despised Zachary Stuart! Her body trembled with the violence of her feelings. He was an animal, a beast! Oh, how she prayed that she would never see him again! How could they be so uncouth as to carry on like that out here in the open where anyone could see them! Alisa glanced quickly at Christine who was still engrossed with her "little people". At least she hadn't seen them.

  Chapter Four

  AT lunchtime, Nora informed Christine and Alisa that Zachary would not be joining them. Sandwiches were being sent up to him at the winery. Although Christine expressed disappointment, Alisa could barely hide her relief at not being forced to sit at the same table with him. Her vow to avoid him was renewed with vigour.

  By dinnertime that evening, her barriers were firmly in place, only to have the satisfaction taken away by the paper wall of the San Francisco Chronicle that Zachary erected between them. Rising from the table after dessert had been served, Zachary excused himself, stating that he had bookwork to catch up on, then sarcastically adding that he was sure Alisa didn't object to entertaining herself. She had no alternative but to agree, much as it galled her that he was the one to do the suggesting and not herself.

  The pattern continued for five days, with Zachary always taking the initiative to insure that Alisa was the one who was left alone. Never once did Zachary use the den for his work, always leaving the house to walk towards the winery. Alisa couldn't help assuming that he was keeping an assignation with the rider of the horse.

  The fifth night it began raining shortly after Zachary had left. The entire day had been threatening with a heavy cloud cover, which had finally released its burden. Alisa was curled up on the couch trying to convince herself that the book she was reading was interesting. But after four previous nights of only a book for company, she was becoming bored. And the steady beat of the rain outside made her restless. Snapping the lighter to her cigarette, she laid the book down and studied the smear of her lipstick on the filter tip.

  The telephone rang sharply in the still room, momentarily startling Alisa with its harshness. She waited, expecting Nora to answer the hallway phone before she remembered that the housekeeper had already returned to her home on the grounds, formerly a coach house. Alisa picked up the receiver of the living-room extension just before the third ring. Just as she started to speak she heard Zachary's voice announce, "Stuart Vineyards."

  "Did you order this rain, Zach?" the woman's voice was teasing with a sensuous huskiness to it.

  "No, I didn't," Zachary replied. There was a slight pause. "Excuse me, Renée, I think someone else is on the line. I have the phone. You can hang up now."

  Alisa inhaled sharply at his sarcastic tone and slammed the receiver down, hoping it would break their eardrums. He had to have known it was she on the other end. No one else was in the house except Christine, who was already in bed. There he was having an affair with another woman and he had the nerve to imply that she, Alisa, was behaving improperly! At least, she thought smugly, the rain dampened this evening's rendezvous.

  The sun finally came out again late in the afternoon of the following day. The gentle breeze carried with it the salty tang of the Pacific Ocean. Alisa watched the contented figure of her half-sister busily administering to the needs of her doll, which had arrived with the rest of her things the day before. A little sigh escaped the bronze-tinged lips as Alisa wished for the serenity of the child.

  It was a consolation to know that Chris was happy, since that had been the whole purpose of this marriage. Alisa loved Chris dearly and didn't begrudge the sacrifice she had made. But she had never felt so bored, restless and frustrated in all her life. What was more irritating was the fact that she was the only one that felt that way! If only Zachary did too, here would at least be some feeling of achievement. As Alisa had found out last night, he was already quite happily engaged in other diversions, while she sat alone in the house playing the part of a dutiful wife.

  The housekeeper, Nora, was still barely civil towards her. And Alisa wasn't about to associate with the short-tempered cook, although she knew that Christine came and went out of the kitchen whenever she pleased. Zachary rose and was gone from the house before Alisa awoke. Again Christine invariably breakfasted with him before she went to waken her sister. There was no one for Alisa to associate with, and as much as she loved her little sister, Chris couldn't provide the adult companionship that Alisa wanted.

  "Nora said you were out here. May I join you?" a masculine voice asked from, the veranda door of the house.

  Alisa rose quickly at the voice. "Paul!" she cried, stretching out her hands relief and welcome. "It's so good to see you again. Do come on out."

  In that brief second when she recognized him, two different emotions waved through her. One that she was glad she had worn her white slacks that hugged her hips before clinging to her thighs, then belling out around her ankles, and the sky blue midriff top that matched her eyes. She knew the outfit was vastly becoming to her. The second feeling was that Paul had changed. Perhaps it was the air of confidence that enhanced his natural attractiveness.

  Now, as he stepped forward to take one of her hands, Alisa noticed the ribboned gift in his other arm. She quickly drew him over to a chair near hers and sat down, offering him a glass of iced tea from the pitcher that sat on the glass-topped table beside her.

  "I wasn't too sure how welcome you'd be to see me," Paul said, accepting the frosted glass, a warm and endearing smile on his face. "Especially after the terrible fool I made of myself the last time. I must have embarrassed you."

  "I was only embarrassed for you and a little angry with Zachary for not letting me know you were here." A glitter appeared in her eyes in the memory of that evening.

  "I brought you a wedding gift." At the beginning of Alisa's protest, Paul inserted, "It was the least I could do. You can open it now or you can wait for Zachary, whichever you want."

  A wedding gift–a chill went through Alisa at the thought that their mockery was going a step further. But she managed to smile and assert that she would open it now. When she unwrapped the gift and sifted through the protective confetti, she found the most exquisite set of Steuben crystal wine glasses. She had no difficulty complimenting their beauty, although she did hesitate to assure him of their appropriateness. They were very appropriate for the new bride and bridegroom of Stuart Vineyard, but she just disliked the linking of Zachary and herself even by a wedding gift.

  "I know this probably sounds strange to you," Paul said, "but since I couldn't have you, I'm glad you married Zachary. Our families have been friends for years. I don't know of anyone who doesn't admire and respect him." Alisa longed to correct Paul and say there was one who didn't, but she kept her silence. "I can see that marriage has agreed with you already. You're not so aloof as you once were. There's a warmness and compassion about you that wasn't there before."

  Had she changed? Alisa wondered. Compassionate-yes, she was. Once she had been impervious to Paul's feelings, uncaring of whether he had been hurt or not. Now she did care. Past of her saw him as a child much like Christine. Why hadn't she noticed this unselfish side to Paul? She had been so quick to condemn him before, to laugh at his pathetic declarations of love. But now her conscience asked if it were his declarations that were pathetic or her reaction. Alisa refused to consider the question. For the moment it was enough to realize that Paul was a true friend, the first one who had ever wanted nothing more except her happiness.

  With a sincerity that surprised even Alisa, she set out to question him about his home, his family, his life, marvelling at the pride
in his voice when he spoke so lovingly about his parents or so earnestly about his position at the vineyard. Chris was the one who finally broke into the discussion, tiring of playing by herself and with touching innocence enlisting Paul and Alisa into a game of "keep-away" with her big yellow ball.

  Twice Alisa found herself laughing at Paul's exaggerated attempts to keep the ball from being tossed past him. She couldn't honestly remember the last time she had laughed in the company of an adult, not even Michael. At last Paul intercepted the ball and it was Christine's turn to be in the centre. With a sense of elation, Alisa knew this was the way she had always imagined a family would be. As she took her turn in the centre, Alisa managed a hesitant smile of gratitude at Paul, hardly knowing that the animated glow on her face was a breathtaking change from the supremely poised expression that Paul was accustomed to seeing. Chris tossed the ball high over Alisa's head, laughing delightedly when her older sister jumped in the air after it. Coming down, Alisa's sandals slipped on the wet grass. She would have fallen if Paul hadn't grabbed her by the waist and steadied her on to her feet.

  She had turned her ankle on landing and there was a spasm of protesting pain when she tried to put her weight on it. Paul immediately insisted on helping her to a chair, then kneeling on the patio to inspect her foot.

  "I only turned it, Paul," Alisa protested, but a warmth went through her at his worried frown that silently betrayed his concern that she might have done some serious injury to herself. His solicitude was contagious and Christine hurried to fetch Alisa her cigarettes and her glass of iced tea–anything to make up for the unintentional hurt of her sister.

  As much as the fussing pleased her, Alisa finally insisted on standing, compelled to show them that she wasn't seriously injured. Paul's hand remained firmly on her arm as she walked without limping to the other side of the patio and back.

  "You see, I'm fine. It only hurt for a moment after I turned it," she said, arriving back at her starting point.

  "You gave me a start." Paul shook his head in relief. "We'd better call off the games for a while, Chris. That grass is too slippery. The next time someone just might get really hurt."

  Chris agreed, then went off bouncing the ball vigorously over the patio announcing that she was going to count to see how long she could keep it bouncing. Paul and Alisa watched her silently for a time before Paul finally rose to his feet.

  "I'd better be going, Alisa. I didn't intend to stay this long."

  "I'm glad you came, and I hope you come often," Alisa returned, for the first time meaning every word she said.

  "Not too often," Paul smiled. "I'd hate to make Zach jealous."

  "Who cares what he thinks!" Hiding the biting tone with a smile, "Chris and I would love to have you here any time. I'll walk you to your car so you can be sure my ankle is completely unhurt."

  Paul protested, but Alisa could tell it was only half-hearted. At the edge of the drive, Paul insisted that she go no farther, asserting that there was no need for her to muddy her sandals while dodging the standing puddles of water in the gravelled drive. He took her hand as he bade her good-bye and held it longer than was really necessary, but Alisa didn't mind. Afterwards when he had driven off, waving to her and the distant Christine, Alisa couldn't even remember whether or not his hands had been sweaty as she had once claimed. That distasteful picture of him had been erased from her mind with the new image of him she had acquired today. She stood for several minutes by the drive watching the car as it drove down the tree-lined lane until it disappeared from sight.

  "That was a very touching little scene."

  The contented expression on her face froze as Alisa turned her head just far enough to the side to see Zachary standing behind her. There was an underlying current of anger in his voice that said his words were more than idle comment. Even though Paul's car was out of sight, Alisa returned her gaze to the road.

  "You should have sent someone to let me know he was here," Zachary continued.

  This time Alisa turned around, staring coldly up into his dark face. "I don't think he came to see you."

  His eyes glittered encountering the triumphantly aloof expression.

  "What did he come for?"

  "I believe he came to apologize for embarrassing me the last time he was here," Alisa replied smoothly, deriving a peculiar enjoyment out of the way Zachary's eyebrows raised in displeasure.

  "How long did it take him to make his apologies?"

  "About an hour." Her blue eyes shimmered with defiance.

  "I thought I'd made it quite clear to you that I didn't want you encouraging him. I should have thought you'd have done enough damage the last time without leading him to believe that you want his attentions even now that you're married. Haven't you done enough harm to him?" Zachary blazed, his tallness looming over her in intimidation.

  "I did absolutely nothing to encourage him to believe I wanted anything other than his friendship," Alisa replied sharply. "I had a very enjoyable afternoon in very pleasant company."

  "A man and a woman can never be friends. They're either acquaintances or lovers, but the platonic state you're referring to could never be possible between two normal healthy members of the opposite sex." Anger smouldered in his gaze while his barbed tongue lashed her unmercifully. "You may not be experienced enough yet to know that fact, but you'd better accept it as truth, because as long as you're my wife, I don't intend your relationship with Paul to extend any further than an acquaintance!"

  "The mighty lord and master has spoken," Alisa announced scornfully. "And just how am I supposed to view your relationship with Renée? Are you just acquaintances, or lovers?"

  "I wondered how long it would take before you brought that up." His anger was momentarily shelved to make way for his mocking amusement. "Surely you remember that I made it very clear that I had no intention of being faithful. I knew the ice maiden I married had enough chastity for both of us."

  "You didn't think I would condone an affair being carried on right beneath my nose, did you? I knew what kind of man you were. The only thing I asked was that you would be discreet. But you can't even do that!"

  "You don't know what you're talking about, Alisa. I would advise you to end this conversation now before you push me too far." His words were spoken concisely as if he were exercising the most extreme control.

  "What do you think I am, some dumb blonde who can't see or hear or add up what she does see?" She ignored his warning look. "Can you deny that you were seen kissing Renée quite thoroughly near the winery buildings? I understood that you usually do your book-work at the house. What changed your routine?"

  "That's quite enough, Alisa!"

  "Is it? And just how do you propose to shut me up?"

  The speculative gleam that danced within his fiery gaze frightened Alisa a little, but outwardly she didn't change her smug expression.

  "I think you'd like me to force myself on you so you can convince yourself all those horrible things you've been thinking about me are true." His eyes flicked over her defiant stance in a slightly cynical amusement. "You also know I'm not about to turn the other cheek. You're full of too much pride and too much self-importance. What you need is to be taken down a peg or two."

  Alisa swallowed nervously, trying to shake the feeling that she was watching a jungle cat just before it leaped for its prey. She started to turn to walk away so that he would be left with his threat dangling in the air. But her wrist was pinioned in his vicelike grip. When her other hand tried to rescue the first, it too was captured. For a minute she allowed herself to be his captive, attempting to lull him into a sense of security. Even as she did so, she was bracing herself so that the moment he relaxed she could twist her wrists free.

  The moment came. Alisa could feel the slight loosening of his hold. Immediately she tried to pull away, stumbling backward a step or two as she seemed to succeed. Then his grip tightened and she used all her strength to tear away from it. Just as she was beginning to think
she wouldn't succeed, Zachary let go. Between the suddenness of his release and the strength with which she was trying to pull away, Alisa lost her balance and fell, sandals, white slacks, bare midriff and all, right into the largest mud puddle in the driveway.

  "I could kill you for this, Zachary Stuart!" she cried in a helpless rage as she stared down at her mud-soaked slacks and at the same time tried to shake the gooey earth paste off her hands. Zachary merely looked down at her with the most infuriating smile of satisfaction.

  She slipped twice trying to get to her feet, each time glaring up at Zachary for his failure to help her out. By the time she got out of the puddle and had walked with mud squishing through her toes on to the lawn, Christine was standing beside Zachary regarding her mud-drenched sister with open-mouthed surprise.

  "At the rear of the house next to the kitchen is a utility room with a shower. You can clean up there," Zachary told her with maddening amusement.

  "What happened?" Christine whispered. But the glaring look from her sister told her quite plainly that she wasn't going to get an answer.

  Alisa stalked angrily to the house, aware of Zachary and Christine following her at a respectful distance. She could hear her younger sister giggling and Zachary's laughing voice admonishing her. Briefly she contemplated going through the front door and tracking mud across the polished tile floor, but she couldn't bring herself to do that, no matter how much she wanted to get back at Zachary for humiliating her so. Instead she walked to the rear entrance. She was immediately met by Nora, who stared at her in horror.

  "Would you please direct me to the utility room so I can clean up?" Alisa squared her shoulders with all the dignity she could. "And see to it I have some towels, too. Then go up to my room and get my lavender caftan and some slippers."

  Nora nodded silently, led her through the kitchen to the small room, then left, still staring at Alisa incredulously. Minutes later she was back, bringing snowwhite towels and a flannel. Alisa had just decided that there was no way she could pull the mud-covered midriff top off without getting the mud in her hair too, when Christine walked into the room.